Migraine
by Lecaor
Summary: Set in the 20's. A short drabble of one of many of Merlin's migraines, and how Arthur handles the situation. (merthur of course)
1. Chapter 1

"Arthur."

The slim, dark haired man stood in the darkest shadow of the room, yet still he felt the light beginning to pierce through his barrier and force its way behind his eyes. His hands were rigid by his side, fingernails digging into his palms as a trickle of blood dropped to the floor. He shut his eyes tightly before saying the name again.

"Arthur."

This time, by chance of the band stopping to switch out instruments suitable for the next song, the blonde, broader, man turned his head from where he was standing a few feet away. He hadn't even noticed Merlin had retreated from his side. On seeing the other man leaning heavily against the corner wall, sweat visible even from this distance, he quickly excused himself from the crowd around him and hastened over to him.

"Merlin, is it happening?" He gripped the younger's arm with one hand and placed the other on his forehead. When he flinched from the contact Arthur didn't need a verbal answer any more. Merlin, who stood trembling, eyes shut, breath becoming more and more rough, was starting to have a migraine.

"Ar-ar-thur." Merlin began, biting his lower lip as the intensity in his head worsened as the band resumed playing, drums leading the way for the entire orchestra. His legs suddenly became limp and he started to slide down the wall.

"Woah." Arthur caught him under the arms as he began his descent. "Come on, you can't. Not here." He adjusted Merlin so his arm was slung around his shoulder and his own around his waist. He ignored the stares received as he half-walked, half-carried his partner across the floor and to the exit door of the club. Certain his friends would understand the situation, as they had in the past, he didn't even turn around before leaving the room and stepping out into the night air. Merlin whimpered into Arthur's shirt.

"Shhh. Just hold on, Merlin. I've got you." He whispered softly as they continued down the street towards their apartment. Each time they passed under a street lamp Merlin would duck his head lower and stumble on the pavement. Without Arthur, at least, he would've never made it to the front step of the shared-room on his own.

"I've got you." Arthur said, gently picking Merlin up into his arms and cradling him to his chest. He nudged the front door open and didn't bother to close it back as he hurried towards the designated room for these situations: the bathroom. With no windows and a cold floor, it was the perfect place for Merlin to ride out the agony.

After slowly placing him on the floor, Arthur rushed to the kitchen to retrieve some water, then to the bedroom to get a pillow. He returned to find Merlin cradled with his knees pulled up to his chest.

"Okay, here we go." As usual, he kept his tone soft and soothing, not loud enough to hurt, and not low enough to go unheard. With hands of practice, he lifted Merlin's head and placed the pillow under it, then lowered him back down.

After assuring his mouth hadn't gone completely dry, as it had a couple of times before, he placed the water near enough to be grabbed when needed, then leaned against the wall to wait. Merlin, too, seemed to know the drill, and stretched out his legs and adjusted his head. He kept his eyes closed the entire time.

After a few minutes, Merlin's face began to scrunch up, and Arthur moved into action. Swiftly and carefully, he grabbed Merlin by the arms and lifted him high enough to reach the toilet. Just as he leaned over it, he began retching into it, body shaking and wavering as the last of the food came out and he continued to dry heave. Arthur held a strong hand against his back, insuring he didn't fall forward or backward, or any way for that matter. When he was finished, Arthur felt Merlin still shaking beneath his hand. He heard him choke on a sob.

"Oh, Merlin." He whispered, letting the younger man fall back onto his own chest as he wrapped his arms around him. He held him tightly as he continued to cry, his head resting on the nape of Arthur's neck. Though his face couldn't be seen clearly due to the darkness, Arthur was sure he looked younger than he was.

"Shhh, shhhh. I've got you. I'll never let you go. Not ever. You're safe. You're okay." He continued to say this over and over in order to calm Merlin, allowing him to know that the pain wouldn't last forever. That it was only temporary, that nothing could take him away from him. Ever.

This seemed to work after a time, and Arthur finally laid Merlin back down onto the floor. But this time, instead of going back to the wall, he lay down beside him, tucking his arms around his waist. As they lay there, Merlin's whimpering ceased. The only sound that could be heard was late night goers in their fancy cars honking to demonstrate their wealth to others unaware, and Arthur wanted to kill them. Each time one blared, Merlin would cringe and cry out, making Arthur grab tighter around him to remind him. He's here. He won't let him go.

"M' sorry." Merlin said later on, just as Arthur had started to close his eyes. He had been watching the other's back, his shoulders, each time they moved with every breath he took. It kept him transfixed, awake.

"No," was all Arthur said. He didn't want to hear that. An apology; as if it was his fault.

Merlin knew it was stupid to say, but he said it anyway. He said it every time. Because he knew he was a burden. He knew every time this happened Arthur was laden with worries and troubles. It was neither of their faults, but why should two suffer at the price of one?

So all he murmured was, "Than' you", then fell asleep.

Arthur sighed. He let the arm under Merlin's waist slip away and go up to his hair. He ran it through the dark, wavy fringe. Satisfied that the worst was over and all he had to do was sleep it off, Arthur allowed his eyes to shut for the second time. He kissed the back of his hair then fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, I know I said this was a one little drabble, but I got a request for a part 2, on the time Arthur first found out Merlin had migraines. It isn't my best work, but I made an attempt and that's what counts!...right? I hope. Oh well. Enjoy!**

Arthur really did start to grow tired of his laziness.

The first it had happened, Arthur had dismissed it as "new jobs, new hours, no sleep". He had forgiven Merlin that time, when he had come into work seven hours late. He was angry, hot as hell, and about ready to fire the entire squad, which in literal terms could have him put to death, but he still forgave him.

That time.

After the next few tardies, Arthur was furious. He yelled and threatened kicking him off the firemen squad. He cursed and rampaged, but in the end, when each day they were switching shifts and Arthur would walk Merlin home, and sometimes stop at a bar, he couldn't stay angry.

So after a while, he just came to accept it.

He even changed his shift. Night time hours didn't seem to fit right with the lanky man, so he switched him, and himself, to day time. When confronted on why he too changed, he simply replied, "Well, I can't have that clumsy man out of my sight when working the hose, can I? Or the ladder for that matter." When Merlin had heard his explanation, he smiled. Sure as hell that was the reason.

"You know, you've got a hell lot of tardies." A man once said to Merlin when they were both sitting down to lunch. "Quite surprised he hasn't laid you off yet."

Merlin simply shrugged, grinning from ear to ear, then walked away. Lunch in Arthur's office was always more…sophisticated.

If make out sessions counted as that.

So time went on, they put out fires, rescued some citizens, and Merlin was never late again.

Until, of course, the day he was.

"Where the hell is that boy?" One of the younger men asked, ironically, as he started buttoning up his fire suit.

"Been a while." Another stated. "What 'as it been, two weeks?" This caused an uproar of laughter from the other trained men.

Gwaine, the chief's underhand, cringed. "Been longer," he said, "too long." He quickly finished buttoning his own coat and hurried to where the chief was starting the engine of the fire truck, nerves drawn out at the lack of men already seated and ready to go.

"Sir, Merlin's not here." Gwaine said, putting a hand on the side of the truck. Arthur looked down at him with a furrowed brow.

"You mean he's not getting ready, or he never showed?" He was already letting himself out of the vehicle, motioning to the man in the passenger seat to take his place.

"Never showed, sir." Gwaine said, pausing to let Arthur think. "To be quite honest, sir, I'm worried."

Gwaine was one of Merlin's first, and best, friends. He had first met him in a club right in the depths of London's inner most. He and Lancelot, of course, but he didn't like to think long on the other man. The scene after his death was horrific, one in which involved crying, grown men, and a bottle of whisky. After that, they had grown even closer. Being on the same squad and the same shift didn't really help the matter either. Either Arthur or Leon was always getting on to the two of them. But he supposed it was only fair, for one time, after a full out water hose fight, the punishment was fit.

Arthur's worry line was already deep, and Gwaine swore it couldn't grow any more, not after his father's death, but now it did. Arthur crossed his arms and looked hard at Gwaine.

"I want you to lead them, Gwaine. Leon's on another case. You know the address, hell, you can't miss the flames. Take it down, come back, and if I and Merlin aren't here yet, come to his apartment."

Gwaine nodded fast throughout his instructions. He leaped into action as other men called out for the go. He placed his hand briefly on Arthur's arm, nodding to him with concern, then ran up to the truck. It shot out of there and left Arthur standing alone in the garage.

"Hell, Merlin. You'd better be drunk."

The walk from the fire station to Merlin's apartment is about fifteen minutes long. Arthur was at his front step in five.

"Merlin?" He knocked a few times, voice determined and strong. If he was drunk, he'd pay. If not, well, he just hoped he was sleeping.

"Merlin, open up! It's Arthur!" He kept knocking, louder and louder, making sure he heard him if he was asleep, or drunk, or even conscious at all. He paid no attention to the voice across the street that told him to "hush it", and instead kept knocking. His gut felt wrong, and when it did, it usually meant something. After a few minutes, Arthur was kicking down the door.

His first instinct was to search for anything out of place. The kitchen to his left was messy, but not unusual for the man living here. The living room seemed in shape, also, no signs of a struggle. No blood, no signs of a break in, no Merlin.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted. He made for his bedroom, where he hoped he was tucked in to bed, sprawled under the sheets snoring as he does every time Arthur wakes up beside him on special nights.

What he didn't expect was to find the younger man curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the room.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, running over to the small form on the ground. He quickly took in the vomit beside him, the sweat trailing down his forehead, and the shaking that ran through his body. Merlin flinched away from him as he bent down and placed a hand on him. He immediately withdrew it.

"The hell, Merlin, what's wrong?" He asked, as Merlin shut his eyes tighter on hearing his voice, "What happened?" His voice was frantic, his face contorted in confusion. There was no blood, no bruises. Nothing but a whimpering man with his eyes shut tightly, hands thrown over his head and legs pulled to his chest. The scene in front of him was baffling and his own heart was beginning to race.

"Please, Merlin. Tell me what's wrong." He said, his voice strained. He had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to the other man, who looked so helpless, so lost. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" Hell, of course he did.

Merlin made a sort of choked sound, his lips parting slightly as if trying to say something. Arthur leaned in close to hear him.

"Shhhhhh." Merlin said again, tears forming in his eyes. "Lights….turn…." Arthur, understanding the desperate plea, quickly went to the other side of the room and flipped the switch, then returned to his side.

"Merlin, what's wrong? Please." Arthur said, tears of his own falling down his cheeks. "Merlin," his voice became lower after another 'shhhhh' from him, "are you hurt?"

It took Merlin a few moments before he answered, "Migraines," softly, barely audible except to Arthur, who was leaning in close. Arthur caught the word, gasped, caused Merlin to flinch, then whispered, "sorry".

Arthur didn't know much about migraines, only that they were like headaches, except a whole lot worse. Light, yeah, he knew that was painful. And loud noises, or noise at all for that matter. Also, didn't he hear once that there was medicine for it?

"Medicine, Merlin." Arthur said, touching his arm softly to not cause any pain. "Where's your medicine?"

"Not…" Merlin panted, kicking his feet from a shock of pain that ran through his head. "Not…any….," He whimpered.

Arthur cursed. How could there not be? This was the twenties for gods' sake! How could there be nothing to help…this. Merlin, lying on the ground, looking as if he'd been shot. Writhing, moaning, _helpless. _

"Hold on, okay?" Arthur said, jumping to his feet as a thought crossed his mind. He ran to Merlin's bed and grabbed a pillow. He brought it back to Merlin, whose breath was so unsteady Arthur thought he was going into an asthma attack, and laid it on the floor.

"Come here, come here." Gingerly, he lifted Merlin's upper body to move his head to the much softer surface. The younger sighed in contentment at feeling the plush comfort.

Arthur's eyes ran over the pile of vomit right beside him, and ran to the kitchen to get some rags to clean it up. When he had returned from dumping the dirty cloths into the hamper, he found Merlin more relaxed on the ground, arms away from his head and folded in front of his chest, as if he were cold.

Merlin's eyes briefly looked up at Arthur, who hadn't said anything as he entered back into the room. The green orbs could be seen even in the blanketing darkness, and Arthur's heart dropped. The pain in them, the hurt.

"Damn it, Merlin." Arthur said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "What can I do?" He whispered.

Merlin's whimpers died a little as he felt the warm lips on his skin, and one of his hands found Arthur's forearm. His breath rattled as he tried to find the momentum to speak.

"Just…just hold me….please." His face was sweating, his body shaking. Arthur could feel the spasms he had as he knew pain was striking his head. This broken man, this fireman, strong, always, was asking to be held.

"Alright," Arthur said, moving himself behind Merlin and laying down, "alright, I'm here. I've got you." He whispered each word so softly only Merlin could hear him even if anybody was in the room with them. He let his face be touched by the fringe of Merlin's hair. He spoke softly from then on, comforting him, telling him he was there, that he had him, that everything was going to be okay. Apparently, that noise didn't bother him, and after a while, Arthur knew Merlin was asleep.

"I love you." Arthur said, wrapping his arm tighter around his waist. "I love you so much, Merlin Emrys."


End file.
